


Miles to Go

by dollylux



Series: Fic Advent Calendar 2015: Siblings, Husbands, Lovely Ladies, and Other Miscreants [11]
Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Office, Angst with a Happy Ending, Boss/Employee Relationship, Gift Giving, M/M, Protective Jared, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-11
Updated: 2015-12-11
Packaged: 2018-05-06 04:11:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,176
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5402513
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dollylux/pseuds/dollylux
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As Jensen's assistant, Jared takes care of him at work. As a man in love, he can't help that he wants to wrap him up in a warm blanket and take care of him in every other aspect of his life, too.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Miles to Go

**Author's Note:**

> day eleven | prompt: gift wrapping

“Jared, can I see you in my office?”

“Sure,” Jared replies, fighting through the heat that always flares up on his cheeks when Jensen says that. He stands up from his desk and smooths out his shirt, running a quick hand through his hair and taking the few steps from his desk to Jensen’s office door. He knocks twice before opening it.

Jensen has his suit jacket off and his tie loosened, his eyes focused on the computer screen through his glasses as he types away, filling the room with the steady click-click-click of keys.

Jared steps inside and closes the door behind him, putting his hands in his pockets and waiting patiently for Jensen to acknowledge him.

“Sorry, just gimme…” Jensen mumbles, frowning as he backspaces and then pauses, reading over whatever it is he’s typed out before finally clicking something with his mouse. He sighs then, tugging his glasses off to rub the bridge of his nose. “Tell me again why I shouldn’t fire Don Starnes?”

Jared smiles, walking toward Jensen and sitting down in the chair across from his desk.

“Are you okay? You look a little tired,” he replies gently. He knows that technically he shouldn’t talk to his boss like that, but he’s worked for Jensen for nearly six years, has been involved in nearly every aspect of his life during that time. He truly sees Jensen more than he sees anyone else.

“Just take on too much shit. As always, right?” Jensen tosses his glasses on the desk and gives Jared a half-smile.”I need you to do me a favor.”

“Of course,” Jared says, scooting up to the edge of his chair, showing Jensen that he has his complete attention. (He always has Jared’s complete attention, but he doesn’t really need to know that.) “Anything.”

“Well, Christmas is next week,” Jensen starts, just like he does every year. Jared holds back a smile and nods.

“True,” he replies.

“And I’m going to my parents’ house in Sachse this year. My sister’s just had a kid, and I haven’t even met it.” Jensen sighs dramatically, like this is something he kicks himself about every night when he’s trying to sleep.

“‘It?’”Jared grins, leaning forward with a quirked eyebrow.

“Him!” Jensen corrects, his cheeks pinking as he blinks at Jared with widened eyes. “Shit. I hope I don’t call him ‘it’ in front of her.”

“So you need gifts,” Jared presses patiently, wishing he’d brought his notepad.

“Yes! Yes. I need gifts. For my parents, for Josh and his wife and their three sons, for Mac and her husband and their… son.” Jensen counts off on his fingers, hesitating on the last one.

“...Are you sure it’s a boy?” 

“Yes! Oh, fuck, I don’t want to do this,” he groans, rubbing hard at his eyes with the heels of his hands. “I don’t have time for this. There’s too much to do here for me to waste a whole week cooped up in that house with people who barely like me--”

“Jensen?” Jared’s hands rest on his thighs, keeping them in a safe place so he doesn’t reach over and touch Jensen to try and comfort him. Jensen looks up, looking so worn and lifeless that Jared can’t help but worry about him. “I’ll do anything you need. I’ve already gotten gifts for your mother and your father. I can do the rest this afternoon.”

Jensen deflates then, curling over in relief and reaching across the desk, wordlessly asking for one of Jared’s hands. Jared touches Jensen’s fingers with the tips of his own, trying not to stare at how small Jensen’s hand looks against his, how delicate and completely enveloped it looks. He swallows hard.

“I don’t know what I would do without you, Jared,” Jensen says, not a single ounce of humor in his voice. Jared looks up, meeting those warm green eyes, and gives Jensen’s hand a squeeze. “I really don’t.”

“That’s never anything you’ll have to worry about,” Jared replies, maybe too much honesty before lunch, but he can’t help it. It eases some of the tension out of Jensen’s shoulders, and so the ache that sets up in his chest for being so vulnerable is worth it. “How about Italian for lunch? Do you want your regular?”

“That would be amazing.” Jensen is actually smiling now, looking infinitely less stressed than he was five minutes ago. Jared stands up and reluctantly lets go of his hand.

“Got it, sir,” he replies, heading for the door and turning to look at Jensen before he opens it. “Just tell me if you need anything else.”

He’s nearly out the door when Jensen speaks up.

“Hey, Jared?”

Jared turns to him, immediately attentive again.

“How did your appointment with Harold go?”

Jared blushes.

Harold is Jensen’s personal tailor, and after Jared had showed up in a purple and green skinny tie and an ill-fitting jacket last week, Jensen had called Harold and made the appointment himself. Jared had refused for days, got too embarrassed to even talk about it, but in the end he’d gone because he hadn’t wanted to disappoint Jensen. He doesn’t know how much the suit is going to cost when it’s done, doesn’t know anything about it. Jensen is handling all of it, and Jared is quietly grateful.

Even though he’s the assistant to the editor of _Sleek_ , one of the biggest men’s fashion magazines in the country, he knows nothing about suits. He knows nothing about the style of them, how they should fit, what colors he should wear, what fabrics to wear during what season, so on and so forth, and he trusts Jensen to dress him however he pleases. 

He’s looking forward to the end result, if only to see the look on Jensen’s face when he wears it to the office for the first time.

“Good,” he mumbles bashfully.

Jensen grins.

“Good,” he echoes.

“Sir,” he whispers, ducking his head in a nod before he slips outside and closes the door behind him. He leans back against it for a few beats, letting out the breath he’d been holding.

It absolutely sucks to be in love with your boss.

 

He calls Sally, Jensen’s masseuse, and sets up an appointment for this afternoon. He waves her in when she shows up, finishing up some filing before he leaves to take his own lunch break.

He spends it at Macy’s and Tiffany’s and FAO Schwarz, making sure to get more gifts than Jensen’s family could possibly need. He gets them all delivered to his own apartment so he can take care of the wrapping and tagging himself (he will never trust another department store after the disaster of Jensen’s father opening up a box of sexy, framed photos of Jensen that were meant for his boyfriend at the time). 

He calls Lizzie Bee’s Flower Shoppe in Sachse and has a bouquet of carnations delivered to Jensen’s mother, an arrangement of pale mint, pink, and peach flowers that he knows she’ll love. He realizes as he walks back to the office that maybe he spends more time trying to please Jensen’s mother than Jensen does himself.

(Which is not to say that the woman likes him. The one time he met her, he ended up having to entertain her for an entire evening when the meeting Jensen was in ran way longer than he expected. She’d nitted and picked and snipped and snided at him until he was a ball of tension by the time Jensen showed up. He never told him, but it was the one time he considered quitting.)

He barely gets settled in at his desk when the door to Jensen’s office opens and Sally comes out carrying her table and giving Jared a polite nod on her way to the elevator.

He smiles to himself, pulling his now-cold container of pasta primavera out of his desk drawer and opening it up to eat in between answering Jensen’s emails. His phone buzzes in his pocket, and he reaches in after stuffing a massive, swirled clump of noodles into his mouth.

Jensen.

_remind me to sing that bette midler song to you after i wake up from my nap xo_

Jared grins at his phone as he chews, tapping out a reply and hoping no one can see how red his face is.

_the rose??_

Jensen starts typing a reply almost immediately.

_:P seriously, thank you. hold my calls for an hour?_

Jared glances around, making sure there are no eyes on him before he brings his phone up to his mouth and presses a kiss to the screen.

_you got it, boss_

_youre my favorite jarebear_

Jared giggles. Actually giggles.

 _i’m your ONLY jarebear ;)_ , he types back.

“Kill me,” he whimpers, melting down into the chair and resting his forehead against the desk. He only gets a few seconds of self-pity before the phone rings.

“Jensen Ackles’ office,” he says serenely into the receiver.

 

He barely sees Jensen at all on Saturday. They’re both in to get everything wrapped up on the new issue of _Sleek_ set to come out on Monday, especially since Jensen won’t be in at all next week. 

Between his meetings in other parts of the building and his two-hour lunch with especially difficult ad execs, Jensen’s not back in his office until nearly 6pm. Jared is wearing his new suit for the first time, and he feels like a dog wearing his new collar; waiting eagerly for his owner to notice it, to praise him for what a handsome boy he is in it.

Jensen steps out of the elevator and heads right toward his office, hair disheveled, dark circles under his eyes, and his laptop bag pulling on his jacket where it hangs off his shoulder.

“Jared, will you please bring me my messages?” he says, not stopping when he nears Jared. He walks straight into his office and pulls his phone out of his pocket, and Jared can hear him answer it when the door closes again.

Jared stays where he is for a second, trying to force himself to be objective about this. It was one of the two things he swore he wouldn’t do when he realized he was falling for his boss: he would not let his feelings get in the way of doing his job. (The second thing? He wouldn’t grab Jensen and slam him against his big oak desk and fuck him to within an inch of his life.)

 _Jensen is having a hard day,_ he tells himself. _You are here to alleviate that. It’s your job to carry part of the load. So get up and do your fucking job._

He’s got a stack of messages in his hand, and he doesn’t bother knocking because he can hear Jensen’s raised voice through the door. He places the messages on the desk, fidgeting a little while he waits for Jensen to acknowledge him, to tell him to leave or stay or if he needs him to do anything urgent.

“I’m obviously aware of that, Carl, but it’s not like we can just change the entire fucking issue now, right? It goes to bed in three hours!” Jensen is facing the floor-to-ceiling window behind his desk that overlooks the cold, snowy evening going on in Manhattan.

Jared wonders when the last time Jensen went out to dinner outside of work was. When the last time he went to see a movie, or slept in late, or did fuck-all on a Sunday and marathoned a TV show. 

It’s counter-productive, he realizes, to want your boss to stay home and relax and do nothing.

“That’s--I know, that’s--will you just let me fucking talk!?” Jensen slams his hand against the glass, leaving a giant smudged handprint on the otherwise flawless glass. Jared makes a mental note to come clean it later and tries not to think about how he wants to go down to the tenth floor and punch Carl in his fat face for making Jensen so upset.

Jensen whirls around then and blinks when he sees Jared, doing a bit of a double-take that he recovers from quick enough.

“Hold on, Carl,” he says into the phone. He hits the mute button and tries to give Jared a smile that looks like more of a grimace.

“Your messages,” Jared explains, pointing at the stack of small pages on the desk. “You can just, um. Buzz me if you need anything else. I know you’re busy.”

“I’m about to have a conference call with Alan from the West Coast office. I’m going to be here for at least a couple more hours. You can head home,” Jensen tells him, stepping away from the window and settling into his desk chair and pulling his keyboard close.

“I think, um. I’m gonna stay, sir. There’s a few things I’ve been meaning to get to, and it’ll be good to get them done before the holidays.” He pauses for just a second, trying to distract Jensen from ordering Jared to go home. “You need to eat. How about that Korean barbeque place we like?”

Jensen’s shoulders slump even as his face smooths out with touched relief.

“Jared, God. You don’t… it’s Saturday night. Go home. I can’t ask you to--” He yanks the phone away from his ear suddenly to glance at the buttons and unmute the call. “Carl, _I can hear you talking about me._ Mute only works one way!” 

He shakes his head Jared in furious amazement, reaching up to grab a handful of his own (lovely) hair as he leans back in his chair and closes his eyes.

Jared ducks out of the office again, fighting the now nearly overwhelming urge to swoop in and tear Jensen away from all the stress he’s under and wrap him up in warm blankets and his own body. He puts in an order to BarKogi and stares at his already clean, organized desk. Truth is he has absolutely nothing to do, that he’d already done everything to catch up where he’d gotten behind, answered every email, filed every contract, spoken on the phone to every journalist, model, and photographer required of him before the January issue comes out.

He simply couldn’t stand the thought of leaving Jensen here by himself when no one else is here, when most all the lights are off and it’s an almost eerie quiet in the building.

He never leaves Jensen in the office by himself, never has and he never will. If Jensen’s working, then he’s working.

“Right,” he says to himself, giving a determined nod as he glances around for something to do. He opens up the physical copy he has of Jensen’s schedule and pulls out his brand new pack of highlighter markers.

He’s been meaning to color-code it for months anyway.

 

By 10pm, Jared has color-coded Jensen’s calendar, updated his professional contacts list, needlessly followed up on five different articles set to come out in the February issue, and put in an order for holiday cards to be sent out Monday to everyone Jensen knows.

He’d brought Jensen his dinner around seven, had gotten him two bottles of water and Jensen’s favorite sweatshirt in case he wanted to be more comfortable in his office. He’d been on speakerphone, listening to the nasally drone of who could only be Alan Bishop, and he’d given Jared his most poignant kill-me-now face.

Jared had put Jensen’s food in front of him and opened up each container, knowing that if he enticed Jensen with the smell, he couldn’t possibly resist eating.

But that was three and a half hours ago.

It’s quiet in Jensen’s office now, and Jared doesn’t knock before he opens the door and peeks inside.

The food is half-eaten and still out on the desk, and Jensen is there in the chair, still in his suit. His head is resting on the cradle of his arms and he’s snoring softly. Jared, knowing he’s alone and completely unwatched now, leans back against the doorframe and lets out a quiet, pained noise. He reaches up to rub his chest where it aches, where it always aches when he sees Jensen like this. He’s too beautiful, too overworked, and too underappreciated by everyone but Jared.

If only Jared was important. If only his opinion mattered enough to make people see.

He cleans up the food first, throwing napkins away and tucking the rest of it back into the containers and into the bag it was delivered in. He grabs the Windex and paper towels in the supply closet and cleans the handprint off the window, squinting at the glass to make sure it’s spotless before he returns everything back to the closet.

“Jensen,” he finally whispers, letting a hand rub slow and gentle across Jensen’s shoulders. God, to touch him like this. To feel how warm and solid he is. How vulnerable. It almost makes Jared feel frantic. “C’mon, Jen. Let’s get you home.”

Jensen stirs like a child; bleary and confused and rumpled, his eyes watery and unfocused as he blinks awake, taking in his surroundings and trying to figure out where he is.

“What,” he mumbles, rubbing hard at his eyes, too hard, if you ask Jared. (How many eyelashes is he damaging right now? Too many, that’s how many.)

“You fell asleep at your desk,” Jared explains, leaving the _again_ off at the end. He helps Jensen to his feet and walks him over to the coat-rack to bundle him up. “We’re leaving now. Anything you need to grab first?”

“My glasses,” Jensen says as he fumbles with the buttons on his peacoat, trying to look down past the scarf Jared wrapped around his neck to see them. Jared grabs the bag of leftovers and Jensen’s glasses from his desk before he herds Jensen out of his office, locking up behind them. He snatches up his own coat from his desk and tucks his phone in his pocket, and Jensen is nearly asleep again by the time they get to the elevator.

“I hate that you do this,” Jared says softly as they make their way down to the lobby. He wraps an arm around Jensen’s shoulders to keep him upright, only being honest because he’s pretty sure Jensen’s already out. “I wish you would sleep and eat and take care of yourself.”

“Finally got it all figured out. We go to print at midnight. It’ll be out on Monday,” Jensen mumbles where he’s tucked against Jared’s shoulder. The lobby is empty except Tom and Andy, the night-shift security guys, and Jared gives them a grim nod as he files past with Jensen as quickly as he can. 

“That’s because you’re amazing,” Jared tells him, giving his shoulders a little squeeze and lifting his bag-laden hand to wave down a cab.

 

The ride to Jensen’s apartment is short and uneventful, and Jared avoids the cabbie’s knowing eyes while Jensen’s warm breath tickles across his bare throat, his soft snores the only sound in the cab.

“Hey, Jared,” the doorman to Jensen’s building says with a nod and a empathetic smile that Jared doesn’t need. 

“Hey, Will.” He gets Jensen into the lobby and starts toward the elevator, but Will’s voice follows him.

“Too much to drink?” he asks with a laugh. Jared turns to glare at him after he hits the button.

“Too much work,” Jared corrects, making sure Will nods and looks away before he pulls Jensen into the elevator. 

The number of people he wants to inflict violence on on Jensen’s behalf is a little disturbing.

Jensen’s apartment is dark and freezing, and Jared fixes both before he helps Jensen into his bedroom. 

Jensen’s mostly awake now, blinking sleepily around his room while he takes off his tie and slips the buttons of his shirt open.

“Wow, I’m. Jared, I’m sorry. I must’ve passed out after the conference call. And you were probably out there, waiting on me. Christ.” Jensen throws his clothes on the ground, stepping out of his designer Italian dress shoes and shoving his pants down off his hips, belt and all. He’s left in a t-shirt and a tight pair of grey boxer briefs, and he shuffles toward his bed as Jared turns it down for him, making sure his pillows are fluffed just before Jensen collapses down on it with a whimper.

Jared pulls the covers up over him, making sure they touch just at Jensen’s chin. He takes Jensen’s glasses out of his own pocket and places them on the nightstand, flicking the light off. It’s dark in the room now, moonlight glinting in from the slivers of space between the blinds.

“Go to sleep,” he whispers, indulging himself by resting a hand on top of Jensen’s head, smoothing back the long strands of it still stiff with hair product. He needs a haircut. Jared should have made sure he had one before he went home for Christmas. “Your flight leaves first thing Monday morning. Be at the airport by 6:10, no later. Okay?”

Jensen makes a tiny noise of agreement and turns over on his side, toward Jared. His whole body curls like a comma, surrounding where Jared is sitting on the edge of the mattress. Jensen’s cheek touches his thigh, and Jared is grateful for the darkness because of the tears that burn in his eyes. He closes them and swallows hard, letting his hand slip back into Jensen’s hair, petting him as tenderly as he’s ever touched anything in his life.

“I’ll… I’ll mail your gifts off Monday, too. I’ll have them overnighted so they get there by the 23rd, alright?” 

There’s no response, just the deep, slow sounds of Jensen breathing. Jared forces himself to open his eyes and looks down at Jensen with his head practically resting in his lap, one of his hands curled around the fabric of Jared’s new pants, like he’s trying to keep him there. He looks across the expanse of Jensen’s giant bed, hating that he looks so small in it, so alone.

Jensen should never have to be alone.

“I’m not gonna see you,” Jared says softly, words catching in his throat, “until after Christmas. Don’t forget to take the gift I got for you down to Texas so you can open it Christmas Day. It’s under your tree, remember?”

He waits through a few more beats of quiet, savoring more than anything, before he finally forces himself to move.

He makes sure Jensen is snug under the covers and centered on his pillow, and he leans down in a moment of true weakness to press a kiss to Jensen’s temple. He smells like Kiehl’s styling gel, Dolce & Gabbana’s Light Blue, and warm skin. 

It’s Jared’s favorite smell in the world.

“Love you,” he whispers against his skin, his nose dragging along his hairline for just a second before he finally stands up, his legs shaking, chest tight with too much emotion.

He pulls the door closed behind him and makes his way through Jensen’s apartment by memory alone, making sure to put the Korean barbeque in the refrigerator with a post-it note reminder about its existence on the fridge door. 

He turns the heat up a little more, plugs in Jensen’s Christmas tree, arms his alarm, and leaves.

The cab ride to his own apartment is silent, the snow falling heavier now as the clock nears midnight. He changes into pajamas, grabs cold pizza from the fridge, and turns on _Seinfeld_ reruns. He stands in the middle of his living room, surveying the stacks and stacks of unwrapped presents for Jensen’s family, the rolls of wrapping paper, bags of ribbons, and sheets of nametags.

It will take hours.

He grabs a slice of pizza and shoves it into his mouth as he settles down right in the middle of the mess, grabbing a box from the top of one stack that he has put yet another post-it note on, his own handwriting scratched out on it: _Donna - sweater_. 

 

He finishes a little before dawn, grabs the throw from the recliner, and collapses onto the couch.

Sleep finds him immediately.

 

This is Jared’s fifth Christmas as Jensen’s assistant, and Jensen’s gifts for him have reflected their growing familiarity with each other, from none at all to ‘Merry Christmas, you know my underwear size, my social security number, oh, and I’ve just made you my Power of Attorney’. Jared’s mental list of the gifts is as follows:

Year one: a gift card for Peter Luger Steak House (totally appreciated, from one Texan to another)  
Year two: a beautiful leather laptop bag with Jared’s initials engraved on it  
Year three: a pair of diamond cufflinks (probably just so Jared would stop wearing the Texas-shaped ones to black-tie events)  
Year four: plane tickets for Jared’s parents, brother, and sister up to New York City and rooms at the Chatwal for them through New Years (it was the first time Jensen saw Jared cry)

This year had been hard, had started stressful and ended stressful, and Jared only realizes it on Sunday afternoon as he’s stacking all the gifts he’s wrapped for Jensen’s family into Priority boxes that Jensen hadn’t gotten him anything this year.

Jared shrugs to himself, not really upset about it because he knows the strain Jensen has been under. He’ll probably take him out to a nice dinner when he comes back home, and Jared’ll tease him about it for a couple of months.

It’s not a big deal. It doesn’t mean anything, doesn’t reflect anything. Sure as hell isn’t a reflection of how Jensen might feel for Jared. Just an oversight.

He’s almost got himself convinced of that by the evening. He finishes a FaceTime call with his family who are all in the Bahamas (Jared couldn’t go; too much to do at the office, and he couldn’t leave Jensen to face it all alone) and shuffles into the kitchen with a sigh to root around in the fridge.

His phone rings on the coffee table.

He’s sure it’s Megan calling back to tell him about the gorgeous boy she’d met on the beach and only been able to tell to him about briefly on the family call, and he’s got a clever opening line ready as he reaches for his phone.

Jensen.

He can’t hit accept fast enough.

“H-Hello?” he stammers, like his job isn’t to answer phone calls competently. 

“It’s me,” Jensen says like he always does, like he still can’t fathom that all phones have caller IDs nowadays. Jared smiles.

“Hey, me,” he replies.

“Look, I really need your help with something,” Jensen rushes out, and Jared hears how strained his voice is for the first time, how on edge he sounds. “Looks like I missed something in the budget reports yesterday, and it could fuck everything up. Could you please come over and--”

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” Jared reassures him, already hurrying down the hall to change. “I’ll be right over. Just sit tight, okay?”

Jensen exhales loudly into his ear, staying quiet for a few beats.

“Thanks, Jared,” he says quietly.

Jared smiles, stuffing his feet into his Pumas and grabbing his coat.

“I’ll see you in twenty.”

 

Seventeen minutes later, he’s knocking on Jensen’s door.

Jensen opens it after just a few seconds, and Jared stops breathing at the sight of him. He’s wearing a dark blue henley, a pair of fitted, light wash jeans, and no socks or shoes, looking even more like the former model he is now than he does when he’s wearing his bespoke suits.

“Hi,” Jared breathes, feeling horribly under-dressed and under-prepared for any of this.

Jensen smiles, a real smile, a calm and sweet one that doesn’t match the stress Jared heard on the phone a few minutes ago. 

“C’mon in.” Jensen steps back and opens the door wider, giving Jared a view of the inside of the apartment: the fireplace going with a crackling, warm little fire, candles dotting the mantle and along the coffee table, the end tables, and finally the dining room table. The table is set and loaded with food that is steaming hot, a frosty cold bottle of Shiner Bock next to both of the plates.

“Jensen?” Jared frowns, stepping into the apartment slowly, looking around for the guy Jensen inevitably has here, some new power-suited prick Jensen is having dinner with that Jared will have to endure with ever-increasing pain until he’s gone.

They always leave. But Jared never does.

“You hungry?” Jensen closes the door behind Jared and rubs his hands together as he walks backwards toward the table. He looks oddly nervous, his eyes darting around the apartment, his smile still in place, like he can’t help it.

“I’m…” Jared shrugs off his coat and drops it on the leather loveseat, squinting around even still for the stray new boyfriend. “What’s going on?”

“Sit down,” Jensen tells him quickly, guiding Jared over to one of the chairs and pushing him down into it. Jared stares down at the plate of spicy-looking chicken enchiladas dripping with cheese and--

“Oooh. Elotes locos,” Jared moans, reaching for the fork on instinct, stopping just before he cuts into the enchilada as his mind catches up to his stomach. Jensen has taken the seat beside him and at the head of the little table, his eyes wide and pretty and expectant as he watches Jared.

“What about… the budget report?” Jared asks hesitantly, really not wanting to think about work when he’s starving and there is hot, delicious food in front of him.

“Surprise.” Jensen grins at him, reaching for his own beer and holding it up for Jared to toast. Jared laughs, surprised and touched and _oh god, Jensen Ross Ackles. Marry me._ He clinks his bottle against Jensen’s, their eyes connected as they take mirrored drinks. They’re both still grinning like idiots when they put their beers down again, and Jared turns his attention to the food to hide the fact that he’s blushing.

“Where did you get this? It looks amazing.” He cuts into the enchilada, the cheese hot and gooey and dripping from the fork that he raises to his mouth. He slides the food across his tongue and closes his eyes to let the flavors burst across it. He sets the fork down with a clatter and leans back in his chair, letting out a moan that is probably way too sexual for food while he chews.

“I made it,” Jensen finally says, almost too soft to hear.

Jared opens his eyes, blinks at him.

“You did?” He swallows and immediately dives back in for more, trying not to look extra starry-eyed at Jensen because of this new revelation: Jensen “Dream Boy” Ackles is a damn good cook.

“Yeah,” Jensen laughs, seeming pleased with how enthusiastically Jared’s eating. He picks up his corn, blowing it off a little before biting into it. He speaks around his bites, and Jared loves him for it. “I’m not _totally_ useless.”

“Jensen. Useless might be the very last word I would ever used to describe you.” He’s serious and he can’t help it, can’t help that he focuses on Jensen until he’s sure he gets it. 

“Stop being perfect and eat your food,” Jensen says quietly, his smile disappearing behind a napkin.

 

Jared insists on doing the dishes while Jensen finishes packing, and they meet in the living room around the same time, Jensen wheeling his suitcase beside the front door and Jared wiping his damp hands off on his jeans.

“All packed?” he asks, trying to smile but it comes out flat. He tucks his hands into his pockets and starts trying to emotionally separate himself enough to leave in a few minutes.

“Yeah,” Jensen sighs, rubbing at the back of his neck and glancing at his suitcase. He falls quiet, thoughtful, like maybe there’s something else he wants to add. When he doesn’t, Jared gives a nod.

“Listen, I’ll get out of your hair. I’m sure you want to sleep. You have to get up even earlier than usual.” He grabs his coat from the chair, the forced cheer making his throat feel tight. He doesn’t want to leave, doesn’t want Jensen to leave. Doesn’t want to be alone at Christmas. Doesn’t want to ever be any further from him than he is right now. 

It’s stupid. It’s stupid and it’s impossible and it hurts.

“Thanks for dinner. It was amazing,” he adds, meeting Jensen’s eyes again. His smile is real this time. He folds his coat over his arm and heads for the door, his fingers barely lighting on the handle when he hears Jensen draw in a sharp breath behind him.

“Wait,” Jensen says, the sound like a snap, like a hand on Jared’s shoulder. He pauses, trying desperately to stay collected, and then turns around. He raises his eyebrows, arms tightening around his coat.

“...The budget report?” Jared ventures.

“No,” Jensen sighs, pushing his hands into his hair and taking three big strides to end up right in front of Jared. “There’s… there’s nothing wrong with the budget. I just said that to get you over here.”

Jared lets out a humorless breath of laughter, shaking his head as he searches Jensen’s eyes.

“You don’t… you don’t have to lure me over with work, Jensen. I’m… you’re not just that. Not to me. You know that, right?”

Jensen licks his lips, an absolutely pornographic move that _always_ knocks Jared on his ass. He steels himself, his coat crumpling in his hands from his tightened grip.

“I haven’t given you your gift,” Jensen says softly, resting a hand on Jared’s forearm.

“Y-You made me dinner,” Jared replies, almost desperate, trying so hard not to let his mind go to dark places, to hungry places that it only ever ventures to with Jensen. “It was so good that it’s gotta count for at least Christmas and my birthday, right?”

One side of Jensen’s mouth lifts in a smile before he ducks his head, breaking eye contact. Jared’s heart races free and fast in the trap of his ribs.

“Merry Christmas.” It’s so quiet, so sweet that it’s all Jared can focus on for a few seconds, and it takes him probably a beat too long to realize that Jensen is now holding a little box out for him.

“Jensen…” He glances up at him, his hands shaking as he reaches for it. He’s too emotional already, too raw for this. He forces himself to breathe. “You don’t--”

“Just open it, Jay,” Jensen says, a little watery himself, with a laugh that sounds painful. Jared lays his coat on the table by the door, hesitating for a moment, and opens the box.

“I remembered you talking about, um. About the Ninja Turtles,” Jensen starts, his voice shaky, so unlike his usual confidence. Jared stares down into the box, unblinking, and listens. “It was the first time we met, during the interview. We got to talking about growing up in Texas, and you told me that you loved the _Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles_. That Donatello was your favorite. I don’t know why, but that always just stuck with me. You weren’t trying to impress me or show off. You were just being yourself. It’s so rare to find humanity in our line of work, and you have always just… you’re the most human person I know.”

Jared reaches into the box, fingers definitely trembling now, and pulls out the little vintage pin in the shape of Donatello, complete with his purple bandana. He laughs and it comes out like a sob. He ignores the tears filling his eyes.

“I saw that pin online one night, and I just…” Jensen shrugs, taking a step closer, so close that Jared can smell him. “I dunno. I had to get it for you. Fought some old bitch from Missouri for it in a bidding war for two hours.”

They both laugh now, and it feels to Jared like being broken open. Jensen takes the pin from him, their chests nearly pressed together as he pins it onto Jared’s Radiohead t-shirt, his fingers cool against Jared’s warm skin when he fixes the back on under the fabric.

“There,” Jensen murmurs, his breath rushing softly over Jared’s neck. He’s so, so near. “To remind you that… I see you. Through everything. That I am so grateful for you. That I don’t think I could survive most days without you. And not just because you work for me, or you keep me from drowning in all of it. I just…”

“Jensen,” Jared breathes. He reaches up, running his hand up Jensen’s waist, pushing his shirt up just a little so that he’s touching bare skin.

“You are my constant,” Jensen whispers, his hand still resting on Jared’s chest, right over his heart that he can surely feel hammering desperately under his palm. “I’ve realized that I’m lost without you. That I come back to this apartment and you’re not here and… and I don’t know who I am when you’re not around. I’m just... I am who I’ve become because of you.”

“Don’t say that to me.” Jared cups Jensen’s hip with his other hand too, both of them sliding up to grip the curves of them, drawing him closer, nearly whimpering at how effortlessly Jensen moves for him. “Don’t tell me that unless you mean it. I’ve been waiting for you to say that to me since the beginning.”

“Don’t go,” Jensen says, hands sliding up Jared’s chest to wrap around his neck. He’s trembling, the tiniest, most heartbreaking movement while he searches Jared’s eyes. “Don’t go, please. Stay with me, no matter where I am. Don’t leave me ever again.”

“Oh, god, sweetheart,” Jared gasps, tears tumbling down his cheeks before he closes his eyes, his chest so tight around his racing heart that it hurts to breathe. He tucks his hands into the small of Jensen’s back and pulls him in completely, tipping his head down to catch Jensen’s warm mouth with his own, finally, finally.

Jensen whimpers as he parts his lips for Jared’s tongue, and it ignites something in Jared, sends a fire straight up his spine. He gathers Jensen up and spins them around, pressing him back against the wall next to the door, Jensen’s bare feet skidding on the hardwood.

His hands slip up under Jensen’s shirt, gripping at his tight stomach and his pecs that feel amazingly soft under his grip, his nipples hardening when Jared tugs at them with firm, deft movements. Jensen gasps into Jared’s mouth, so much softer than Jared ever expected, so much more pliant than he ever let himself dream.

He yanks Jensen’s shirt off and ducks down to lick and kiss at his neck, nearly growling for the whine that Jensen lets out, for the way he just tips his head back and lets Jared feast, his arms wound tight around Jared’s neck. 

“You, too,” Jensen whispers, and Jared thinks maybe they do spend too much time together because he knows that Jensen wants Jared to take off his shirt. He obeys, always does whatever Jensen wants because it’s immediately what he wants, too; he pulls his thin t-shirt over his head and lets it fall to the floor, hearing the tiny metal thump of the pin. He’s reminded all over again of how sweet Jensen is, of the way he’d just put himself on the line, the way he’d just given himself to Jared tonight.

He wraps his arms around Jensen, practically cradling him as he blindly finds his mouth again, kissing him with so much intensity that it bruises his mouth. He can taste the salt of tears, and he knows instinctively that they’re not just his own.

“Ohmygod, Jared,” Jensen breathes into his mouth. His hands are all over Jared’s chest and stomach now, squeezing and rubbing like Jared’s a plaything, like Jensen just can’t believe it. Jared grins, maybe tensing up a little to make his muscles bulge under Jensen’s seeking fingers, and he’s rewarded with the shivery little moan Jensen lets out around his tongue.

He runs both of his hands down Jensen’s back, slipping under the loose waist of his jeans and straight down into his underwear to grip his ass.

“There it is,” he grits out, his dick so hard between them, pressed tight against Jensen’s stomach. He grips the plush of Jensen’s lovely ass, massaging at those tight cheeks while Jensen pants, head back against the wall, just letting Jared feed from his mouth, letting him molest his lovely body. “You’re so fuckin’ beautiful, Jen. So goddamn beautiful.”

“Fuck me, Jared. God, please.” He bites into the last word because Jared’s fingers find his hole, and he rubs over it as firm and hungry as he wants, possessive because he’s wanted this, wanted to feel this secret place for years. 

“Right here,” Jared tells him, reaching down to unbuckle his own pants, shoving them open to hang off his hips before he starts in on Jensen’s. “Gonna take you right here.”

Jared shoves roughly at Jensen’s clothes, pushing them down and dropping to his knees, kissing a hurried line down Jensen’s body before wrapping his mouth around Jensen’s gorgeous cock, taking him all the way into his mouth, letting it tip down into his throat.

“Shit!” Jensen’s fingers thread into Jared’s hair, pulling so hard it hurts but it just makes Jared that much more desperate, pushing Jensen’s dick so deep down his throat that his nose is buried in the softness of Jensen’s lower belly. He swallows around his cock, growling quietly to let the grip and rumble work at Jensen’s dick. Jensen yanks at his hair, pulling him off and staring down at him in wide-eyed amazement.

“Oh, fuck, Jared, I… _fuck._ ” 

He yanks Jared back down on his dick and Jared goes willingly, stuffing his mouth with dick and putting his tongue to work this time as he bobs on it, letting the taste and smell of him invade every one of his senses. Jensen keeps one hand in his hair, working Jared up and down on his dick as he strains forward and fumbles with the drawer on the table in the foyer, rummaging around for what Jared hopes to God is lube.

“C’mere,” Jensen finally gasps, tugging Jared back to his feet and slipping a bottle of lube in his hand before he guides their mouths together, kissing Jared like he’s starving. “Get me ready. Need you so much.”

Jared works one-handed to squeeze lube out into his palm and let it run down to his fingers where he spreads it out, slicking them all up. He runs that hand up between Jensen’s crack, pushing his fingers right in against his hole and starting up a deeply-pressed massage.

He presses Jensen hard back against the wall, his left hand splayed on Jensen’s back while he sinks his middle finger straight up inside of him. Jensen strangles out a cry, his hands pushing at Jared’s pants and underwear to get them down to his thighs, and when he wraps his hand around Jared’s cock he has to close his eyes and force himself not to come right there.

“Gonna fuck me with this big dick?” Jensen whispers between kisses, his eyes open and tearful and so bright in the low light of the warm room, his hand the perfect size for Jared’s dick to fuck into. “I don’t know if you’ll fit.”

“We’ll make it fit,” Jared promises, feeding Jensen his ring finger too, pressing right up deep into his warm body. He spreads them out and rubs him loose, staring right down into Jensen’s eyes as he does. Jensen lets go of his dick to cup Jared’s face, pushing his hair back behind his ears and pulling him down to rest their foreheads together. Jared ruts against him, his dick dragging against Jensen’s between their bodies, slick dripping down from both of them to ease the movements a little.

There’s no question, no hesitation when it’s time.

He just searches Jensen’s eyes while he pulls his fingers out, slicking his own dick with the rest of his lubed-up hand and dragging Jensen’s left leg up to rest in the crook of his elbow.

Jensen gasps like he’s been stabbed, those long, dark lashes fluttering when Jared pushes the head of his dick into Jensen’s ass, keeping him open wide around the fat flare of his cockhead.

“Yeah?” Jared asks, his mouth ghosting Jensen’s.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Jensen sobs, throwing his arms around Jared’s neck again and clinging to him while more tears slip down his flushed face. “Yes, Jared. God, yes.”

Jared groans, shoving Jensen’s leg up even higher, the soft inside of his thigh catching on Jared’s hip while he fucks up into him, sinking in completely, his pubic bone digging right up against Jensen’s perineum. 

They watch each other while Jared fucks him slow, while he punches the prettiest sounds out of Jensen’s body, his insides so tight, so burning hot, so eager for dick that he opens up like it’s a relief to do it, like he’s been needing Jared to be exactly here, to work him open this completely, this deep.

“So beautiful,” Jared can’t stop saying, the words pushing up past the tightness in his throat as he pumps quicker, constantly desperate to get back inside of Jensen’s body. “So beautiful, you’re so beautiful, Jen.”

Jensen lifts his other leg up, trying to catch it on Jared’s hip, and Jared reaches down for it to haul him completely up onto his body. Jensen wraps his legs around Jared’s waist and sinks down that much deeper on his cock.

“Ohh, f-fuck,” he shivers, his whole body convulsing as he leans back against the wall and just takes it, the whites of his eyes showing as his eyes roll back in his head. “Fuck it so good. Jay, fuck me s-so good.”

Jared braces Jensen against the wall and lets both of his hands slide down to sink into the shuddering flesh of Jensen’s ass, holding onto him so tight it’ll bruise. He bends his knees and digs his hips up roughly, grits his teeth, and lets go.

They both drop into just noises then, just the wet, fevered slap of skin and the jolt of Jensen’s body against the wall and the helpless sounds they gasp out. Jared buries his face in Jensen’s neck and wraps one of his arms around his waist, the other one spreading out to try and hold his ass in its grip so he can clutch at him, practically pounding him through the wall.

“Keep going, gonna come, Jay. Keep fuckin’ me, baby, I need to come. I need to come, I need--” Jensen locks up around him, his mouth falling open around a silent scream, his hand working furiously between their bodies on his own dick before he starts to come. It paints Jared’s chest and drips down his stomach, Jensen’s body choking up so tight around his dick that all he can do is let out a strangled, warning growl and press him completely back against the wall, trapping him there so tight that he knows Jensen can barely breathe.

“Can I--” he whispers, seeking out Jensen’s mouth just to smell his breath, to feel it wash over his face as he grinds his dick in deep. “Jensen, can I--”

“Come in me,” Jensen commands, his heels digging hard into the small of Jared’s back, his guts still throbbing around his cock. “C’mon, this is just for you. This is yours, Jay--”

“Ohmygod.” He slams Jensen violently against the wall, pictures shuddering all around them, something crashing nearby as he gets in a few final thrusts and explodes inside of Jensen, erupting in what feels like years of emotions and want and loneliness and loyalty and love and love and love.

He’s crying again, sobbing like a child, and Jensen’s hands are on his face, his mouth on his cheeks and his chin and finally on Jared’s own. He doesn’t know how he keeps upright, how he stays on his feet through it all, but if he’s holding Jensen, he will never fall.

 

He comes to again probably only minutes later but it feels like years. He’s in bed with Jensen, cheek against his warm, solid chest. They’re cleaned up and covered up and the room is dark and Jensen is kissing his forehead, his eyebrows, at the trembling skin of his eyelids.

“Come home with me,” he’s saying, fingers stroking across Jared’s scalp. “I got you a ticket, too, right beside me. Come home with me. Meet my family. I can’t just leave you here anymore. Not anymore.”

“Anywhere,” Jared promises, smiling when Jensen’s grinning mouth finds his own. “As long as I’m with you.”


End file.
